


A Distraction

by hipsterloki



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:32:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterloki/pseuds/hipsterloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki needs a distraction, Clint is willing enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Distraction

**Author's Note:**

> Not Beta-Read. I don't think you understand how much I like Clint and Loki together. :|

Slowly he had learned everything. There was so much he hadn’t expected, he thought the agent was jesting when he told him,  _‘Everything, sir? That’ll take all night’_. It practically did. He stayed in the networks of rooms they made for him, all underground as to not be tracked. The agent was smart enough; he would give the Midgardian that.

In the damp caves and tunnels they were working in, they made makeshift beds and rooms. It was nothing like what Loki had imagined for himself. He imagined a palace, a throne, a place fit for a god like him. He consoled himself with the idea that it would all soon be his; he was only biding his time – finishing what was necessary to achieve greatness. The agent himself pulled in the bed into the largest room they could find, shoving it into a corner just for the god.

It was more a mattress than anything but as the agent had told him, the majority of the crew he had recruited was working around the clock – there really was no need for beds. So the agent settled Loki’s bed, threw covers on it almost haphazardly, placed a few pillows and gestured at the modest thing at his feet with a shrug.

Loki eyed it in disgust, turning those disdainful green eyes to the agent’s webbed blue ones. “Really, Agent Barton?” He asked, shooting him a curdling look.

“Sir, it’s the best we can do for now.”

“You expect me to  _sleep_ on this? I’d rather watch Dr. Selvig’s progress.” Loki turned, the staff he had a habit of gripping and turning in his hands lay on the floor where he had dropped it earlier. He  _was_  tired – he had been working tirelessly for this moment and had not slept. Sleep was foreign, as was the idea of food, drinking, all of it was a foreign function that he had no time to stop and consider. But the agent had. Blue-eyed and not in his right mind, but there he was standing next to him loyal, quiet, stern, waiting – his.

“I expect you to rest, sir.” Loki nearly felt chastised for a moment and the anger that quickly coiled in his chest made it hard to breathe until he felt a hand grip his shoulder. “Loki, sir—“ Barton began, but Loki had moved, edging closer to the mattress on the floor.

“You never finished telling me, Agent Barton, about your Agent Romanoff.” A smile curled on Loki’s face, thin lips splitting apart to reveal a row of white teeth. “You love her?”

“I suppose I did, for a time, sir.” Barton replied flatly, they could have been talking about yesterday's weather. For some reason, it brought a swelling joy into Loki’s heart.

“You still care?”

“Not at this precise moment.”

“You would though,” the statement was more for himself than for Barton. “Could you again reiterate why you couldn’t kill her?”

“I made a call, sir.” There was a small edge to his voice, like the agent was becoming irritated in being forced to talk about a subject he didn’t feel like addressing. But Loki had time, even though Dr. Selvig and his newfound crew was working hard, they still had all this empty time.

“Do you think it’d break your heart, if I made you kill her?”

“No.”

“No, not now – I’m sure of that. But if you were you, it just might.” Loki had begun to pull apart his outfit, yanking it off piece by piece as he continued to speak. “Have you loved another?”

“I’m not sure; she was my partner, sir. I had worked with her for years.” The impassive unnatural blue eyes watched as Loki was left with only his black pants, the rest having pooled around his feet. For a moment, Loki could see the eyebrows furrow, blue eyes questioning but it was a fleeting moment at best.

“And if I killed her—“

“It wouldn’t matter, sir.”

“And if I took you? And I send you back to her just before I kill her?”

The eyebrows did furrow prominently this time, the agent having lost the train of their conversation. His lips parted and he pressed them shut once more. “What, sir?”

“If I took you? If I tore into you? If I desecrated you, Agent Barton? If I made you mine.” A feverish glint rose in the emerald eyes, black spidery hair looking even more tousled after his struggling with his clothes. The agent hadn’t moved, neither forward or backwards. He stayed rooted in the same spot, his lips now pressed into a tight line.

“Is that what you want, sir?”

Loki pondered for a moment, the bright green fire in his eyes still burning hot. “Yes. I want it. I want your shame Agent Barton. When you are yourself, I want every memory of her tainted because of me. I want you to look at yourself and hate yourself because you need  _me_.”

And Loki was stepping closer, his teeth digging into his bottom lip forcefully as he rounded on the agent. Glowing blue eyes followed him as the god circled, Loki’s thin fingers running up the exposed arms. His nails dragged down the skin, down every curve of muscle and back up again until his fingers dug underneath the sleeveless outfit, trying to feel the skin of the agent’s shoulders.

“Sir, if I could make a suggestion.” Even then the voice felt monotone. Loki had him, could break him but what good is breaking a man who isn’t even  _there_  – isn’t even  _home_  in that big dome of a skull. Green eyes flashed angrily, nails digging into the shoulder what should have been painfully but Barton seemed not to notice.

“And what’s that Agent Barton?”

“Honestly, sir. The only way I’d enjoy this, is if I did the fucking.” The bright blue eyes gleamed for an instant. A spark of personality had come and gone and Loki could only stare – trying to see where he could find more of it.

Loki circled him once more, disappearing for a moment, only to retrieve his sceptre. He pressed the pointed tip against the small of the agent’s back and pushed him forward. “Undress then, Agent Barton.”

“It’s Clint, sir.” The agent unhooked and unlatched his clothes, shrugging the vest off his shoulders, followed by his shirt. He turned to face Loki, the point of the sceptre pressing against the hard lines of his abs. The metal trailed down, dipping into the belly button, tracing the hair that began below it and down until it disappeared around the hem of his black pants. “You’re going to need a name to call out,” Barton’s voice made Loki look up from the trail of hairs leading down the agent’s navel and back up to the shining cerulean blue eyes. The corner of Barton’s mouth twitched upwards, “sir.”

An incredulous smile made its way onto Loki’s face, dark eyebrows knitting together in amusement. He jabbed Barton with the tip of his sceptre, making the agent’s heels hit against the mattress. Another forceful tap and Barton let himself fall down on it – it was a long fall, from where he sat now, Loki loomed, the staff grazing his cheek almost fondly.

“I quite like you Agent Barton—Clint.”  _It’ll be a shame when I kill you. When I break you._  Loki stepped closer, Clint’s hands gripping the back of Loki’s knees and forcing the god onto his lap.

Loki’s right hand still refused to let go of the sceptre though his other hand had fisted into the thick auburn hair of the agent he was sitting on, his mouth opening to Clint’s eagerly. Clint's hips rocked, hands trailing down the smooth expanse of Loki's back. One hand edged lower, dipping underneath Loki's weight and grabbing his ass, pulling Loki even closer. The low position of the mattress made their limbs awkward, too long and big for the space they had so Clint let himself sprawl across the mattress, the springs of it digging into his back, especially as Loki followed suit straddling the agent's torso and continuing to rock. The sceptre dug deep into the mattress, one hand still gripping it tight, balancing himself as he ground himself against Clint's searching and rolling hips.

Loki could only smile, color creeping up his neck and touching his pale cheeks. Though Loki refused to relinquish his sceptre, he was able to lean down enough so that his tongue could dip out to trace Clint's bottom lip before he pulled it into a slow, nearly sweet kiss. Heat was steadily pooling at the bottom of his stomach, forcing him to push back against Clint's hips, searching for more friction. He could feel Clint's heavy breathing against his parted mouth, puffs of hot air washing over his face while the quiet, low noises coming from deep within Clint's throat reached Loki's ears like a small symphony - a chorus just for him.

The hips bucking against Loki's ass pushed harder until the god was tossed off, the agent rolling on top of him and fitting himself in between Loki's spread legs. Clint's lips twisted into a smug smile, messy auburn hair sticking up begging for a hand to thread through it, to hold onto it, to yank on it. Loki's hand reached up, feeling the soft hair against the pads of his fingers before he gripped it tight and yanked Clint's head back until his Adam's Apple pressed against the skin of his neck. Loki leaned up enough to run his tongue over the hard planes of Clint's chest, teeth nipping at one pert nipple. Loki could feel a light rumble against his lips where he was now sinking his teeth playfully along Clint's prominent collar bones. It was a deep groan that started in Clint's chest and came out of his parted, dry lips that he continually tried to moisten by licking at them futilely.

His hips were still rocking against Loki's ass, calloused hands sliding underneath the god until he pulled their bodies flush together. He met Loki's searching mouth in an open kiss, teeth hitting, tongues sweeping and tasting. Loki's hands felt down the muscled shoulders and down Clint's back until they found his flexing shoulder blades. Loki dug his nails deep into the flesh, mouth moving along Clint's square jaw and down the straining neck until he found a suitable spot for his mouth to work on.

Clint's hands roamed over Loki's small back until the wandered back down, snagging his thumbs in the hem of Loki's black pants and tugged at them impatiently. "Off," throaty and hoarse, Clint barely managed to say anything at all.

Loki pulled away, a red welt appearing on Clint's neck where he had been working fervently to leave his mark. "Fuck me then, Clint." Loki demanded, laying himself on his back as Clint yanked on the black pants, pulling them off and tossing them aside.

"Sir, we need lube." Clint pointed out, as he opened the front of his pants freeing his hardened cock from its confines and pushed the pants down to his thighs.

"Lube?" Loki stretched out in front of the agent, wiry body beckoning Clint forward.

"Yeah, something to ease this in," Clint replied giving his shaft a few strong strokes. Loki watched with hungry eyes, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

He rolled himself around, tucking his knees underneath him as he buried his face against the slightly dank pillows. He turned his face to the side, eyeing Clint over his shoulder.

"I'm a god, I can handle a little pain. Just do it," Loki's voice had a whiny tone, like a child insisting on a new toy.

"Yes, sir," was the only thing Clint said before the burn set in as the thick head of his cock began to force itself in. Loki nearly mewled, fingers clenching the pillows his head was resting on.

Loki eyed Clint who seemed fascinated with watching his cock disappear inch by inch inside of the tight hole, but Loki wanted more friction, more thrusting, more fucking. He wanted to feel the agent lose himself, and it would be Loki's body he lost himself with. Loki let out breathless gasp as he felt the first snap of Clint's hips, slamming himself the rest of the way. He seemed to have tired from teasing himself because the next time Clint pulled out, he rammed back in ripping a cry from Loki. The next time, Loki pushed back, meeting his thrust eagerly and soon the only thing sounding in the room was the dull smack of flesh against flesh mixed with Clint's grunts and Loki's muffled moaning.

"Clint, my sceptre," Loki managed to say desperately, his face sliding against the pillows with each forceful thrust. "Clint," Loki tried again but the agent had nearly slid out, fumbling with Loki's long legs before he managed to pull the god onto his side, throwing one of those nimbly legs over his shoulder and straddling the other.

Loki seemed bewildered for a moment until Clint slid back in, forcing Loki's green eyes to flutter shut, hands reaching out to grab anything that could steady him. Clint's grip on Loki's knee was forceful, nails cutting into the smooth skin, his hips only serving one purpose and that was - trying to bury himself as deep as he could into Loki.

A surprised, choked gasp left Loki as he felt one large hand wrap around the shaft of his curved cock, giving it a deft stroke. A thumb traced around the head, running over the small hole smearing the beaded precum against the sensitive flesh. Loki's hips bucked, impaling himself against Clint before rolling up to feel more friction from the hand holding his cock firmly.

"Off," Loki forced out, pulling his leg away from Clint's shoulders as he tried to scoot away. "My sceptre," he breathed, letting his head fall back against the pillows. Sweat covered his body in a slick sheen. Clint had the audacity to scowl at him before he pulled out, turning around to search for the sceptre Loki kept begging for.

Loki had let go of it at some point and it had fallen off the mattress and laid next to their discarded pile of clothes. He lifted it up and handed it to Loki, who seemed to still be catching his breath. He grabbed it gratefully and twirled it in his slender hands. Clint moved back to his position, this time grabbing a hold of the back of Loki's knees and pulling them up and apart. A look of determination had settled across Clint's face as he began to slide the head of his cock back into the deceivingly small hole. Loki hissed and slammed the sceptre against Clint's chest, the blue orb flashing bright.

Black seeped into the corners of Clint's eyes until his entire vision went and he felt himself collapse. When the agent blinked back the dark haze, his world was spinning, spindly fingers threading through his sweaty hair. A pleasant heat made itself aware, from the pit of his stomach down to his toes. As he blinked the world in focus, he became acutely aware of the friction, the rocking, the soft lips caressing his jaw and earlobe, fingers gently scratching at his scalp. The body beneath him was warm, the hands in his hair comforting, the lips on his skin arousing and not to mention the tight heat enveloping his cock. Clint's mouth felt dry, his throat felt raw, his brain felt stuffed with cotton. He saw the glittering green eyes only inches from him, he could feel the hot breath washing over his neck.

Clint lurched but Loki held on, rolling Clint onto his back, straddling him. "Don't act as if you don't like it, Agent Barton." As if to make his point, Loki began to ride him, hips rocking purposefully slow. The feeling made Clint's eyes screw shut, stomach growing taught and arms flexing with restraint.

"Fuck you," Clint managed hoarsely, opening his eyes which had turned to a blue-gray, though they were bright with anger.

"Mmm, I think we've done that." Loki smiled, rocking his hips idly. "Clint, my Clint, when you close your eyes you'll remember this, remember me and you'll be sickened with yourself and how much you want me. You'll look at your Black Widow, and think of all the things we did and how much you needed it. Clint, look at me." Sometime during Loki's speech, Clint had shut his eyes, jaw clenching tightly.

He cracked his eyes open, pain etched on that face. Emotional distraught. Disgust. Hate. Desire. Lust. Loki could see every fleeting emotion in Clint Barton's normal eyes - it was beautiful.

"Fuck me," Loki whispered, leaning closer, thin hands cradling Clint's face.

"I'm gonna put an arrow right into your eyesocket--"

"I think you've put enough things into me tonight, don't you?" Loki grinned, rows of white teeth met Clint's scowl and suddenly, strong hips bucked up slamming into Loki, jostling the god off balance. Clint wrapped a hand around the long throat, hips thrusting up angrily. Loki only let out a breathless laugh, fingers curling around the hand clenching at his throat.

The grip on Loki's throat tightened and he yanked Loki closer until their lips slammed together. Clint swallowed Loki's gasp, and with each thrust his grip on Loki's throat loosened until his fingers moved to grip at Loki's narrow hips and slam the god's body down to meet his thrusts until his pace became short, uneven, desperate. Fingers gripped into the hipbones and Clint slammed up once more, body growing taught, the heat that had been pooling in his stomach flooding his limbs.

He gave a few more shaky rolls of his hips before he let his body collapse. Loki's breath hitched, his palm working hard on his own cock. He leaned forward until he laid on top of Clint, his head burrowing against the crook of Clint's neck. His hand still pumped weakly at his shaft, shoulders shaking, ass pressing down against Clint's softening cock.

A large hand slid in between their bodies to the cock trapped between them and wrapped around the thin hand, guiding Loki's hand over the length of the shaft. Loki's back hunched slightly before he stretched out, hips jerking up, hot cum pooling between the curves of their bodies.

Loki lay breathless for a moment, a smile teasing the corner of his lips. He sat himself up shakily, his skin still flushed, sweat still glistening over the planes of his body. Clint looked defeated underneath him -- sick, broken, needy.

"You need me, Agent Barton." Loki whispered, slow and sweet. "You need the peace I offer. You're mine after all."

The staff was in Loki's hand, the pointed metal tip pressing against Clint's chest. The agent threw up an arm, hand clenching the metal shaft, eyes glaring up wide at Loki before black seeped back into his vision.

The unnatural blue blinked back into Clint's eyes and Loki set the staff aside, leaning down to place a mockingly soft kiss on Clint's lips though his agent didn't seem to mind. No, his blue eyed agent didn't mind one bit.

But he had seen Clint. The real man, the broken man,  _his_  broken man.


End file.
